On my way to buy a morning paper #58

Half term and lack of traffic
from the road to Ingleby Barwick
meant I heard a squirrel's claws
on tarmac
from fifty yards away.

On my way to buy a morning paper #57

Sun behind my head
patching black tarmac paths
with puddled blue-sky promise.

On my way to buy a morning paper #56

Warburton's bright orange wagon
from which jumped driver, six foot four;
face of Colin Firth as Darcy
just before the river scene.
Pre-breakfast bliss.

On my way to buy a morning paper #55

Cold west wind
two improbably orange cars, unpleasantly assertive
no Telegraphs ("problem with the printing")

On my way to buy a morning paper #54

Three woollen-hatted men,
Two awaiting lifts,
Third out to walk his well-wrapped brindled hound.
Their football conversation around the red brick pillar
steaming upwards into the frosty air.

On my way to buy a morning paper #53

Rain-washed red jelly-babies
Imitating tiny turds

On a weekend with writers

Had our feet left on the floor the silvery trails our words wove in the air the pattern would've been filigree.

Chapter 15

In between Mantel and McIlvanney
I'm trying to write a conversation
using my voice.

On my way to buy a morning paper #52

Click of gate ahead of me. 

Man emerges, three squat, fluffy dogs on Karma Chameleon leads (red, gold and green)

In his other hand, a mug of tea.

Grey beads on brown

Birds like beads on the ends of up-turned braids
scatter in an instant, circle and resettle
at the sound of some invisible alarm.